


PlayWizard: Sexually Educating Wizards for Generations

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-17
Updated: 2008-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-27 14:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, some blokes actually read the articles inPlayWizardmagazine. (Harry/Hermione)





	PlayWizard: Sexually Educating Wizards for Generations

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Originally written for the 2008 Hermione_smut fic exchange on Live Journal

_PlayWizard_ : Sexually Educating Wizards for Generations

 

They were just friends, or at least that was what Harry kept telling himself. But, of late, it was becoming harder and harder to think of Hermione that way. December was upon them and the ground outside was covered in snow, as they sat around the enchanted fire that crackled inside the tent. 

 

Ron had always been the buffer between them. Perhaps, Harry thought, he had never allowed himself to look at Hermione as anything more than a friend because he had known of Ron's feelings for her. After all, a decent bloke did not pursue the bird that his best mate fancied. But Ron was gone now; he had left them.

 

Hermione was sitting in the same tattered old chair she sat in each night, with the same copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ in her lap. She had her hair tied back, and was twirling a stray strand around her fingers as she studied the book of fairytales. Harry sat a few feet away from her pretending to read _Flying with the Cannons_ , but he couldn't recall when he had last turned a page, or if he had turned one at all in the last few hours. 

 

He jumped when she threw down her book. "Why are you staring at me?" she snapped, the frustration she was feeling clear in her voice, as she stood over him with hands on hips.

 

His skills in the area of stealth could perhaps use a bit of work. "I have no idea what you're going on about. I'm not staring. I'm reading." He held up his book to lend credence to the statement.

 

"The book you're _reading_ has been upside down for the past hour."

 

His ability to tell a believable lie appeared to need some honing too, he thought as he looked at the book in his hand. It was, in fact, upside down. 

 

He opened and closed his mouth several times, grasping for an answer that might ring even remotely true. Finding none, he did what any sensible man would do—he blamed her. "Well, I wouldn't be staring if you wouldn't dress like that."

 

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, I don't know how you've resisted my too-big, floppy flannel pyjamas and wooly red socks this long. They do such flattering things for my figure. It's the reason I packed them for this trip, you know. To see how long it would take before you were tempted by my seductive night wear. Honestly, Harry." She rolled her eyes at him once more and went to turn down her bed and crawl beneath the duvet. 

 

He stood and stretched, tossing his now pointless decoy of a book aside as he crossed the tent to check how deep the snow had fallen in the last few hours and sealed the entrance. He pulled down the quilt on his own bunk, extinguished the candles with his wand and placed it under his pillow before saying, "G'night, Hermione."

 

He faced the side of the tent and fell into a restless dream-filled sleep. They were strange nonsense-type dreams for which there was no logic. In fact, he thought he was still dreaming when he rolled over to find Hermione beside him in his bed. Wonderful thing, dreams, where all filters slip away and boldness takes hold. 

 

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. No kiss in any dream past had felt like this, but it was the salty wetness of tears on his lips that caused Harry to sit bolt upright. "Hermione! What are you doing in my bed?" His heart was beating so wildly, he felt certain it would tear through his chest at any moment.

 

She didn't speak, but sat up and pushed him back down onto his back. He went with little resistance, too shocked to put up much of a fight, his lips still tingling from their kiss. She clung to him, her head upon his chest, soaking his t-shirt with her tears. 

 

"I- I fell asleep wearing that stupid locket. I've never had such a vividly horrible nightmare. Do you mind if I stay here with you tonight, Harry?" she asked, sniffling and attempting to dry her tears.

 

His cock was already half-hard from the dream, and he wasn't sure he could survive a night with her pressed closely against him. "Hermione, I don't think—"

 

"Please." Her voice was tiny and needy, and the most unlike Hermione he had ever heard. She sounded broken and childlike, and he felt powerless to refuse.

 

"Um, sure. That must have been some dream. You're trembling."

 

"It was the worst. My parents were-" Her voice broke and the trembling intensified, as she sobbed and pressed even more closely against him.

 

"Shh. It was only a dream. Your parents are far away and I'm sure they're fine." Harry rubbed circles on her back in an attempt to soothe her. Hermione cried herself to sleep in the warm embrace of his arms, an occurrence Harry had never thought he would witness. 

 

Now that she slept, the closeness of their bodies was too much for him. He moved as far away from her as he could manage, but the confines of the small bed made distance difficult, even after he performed an _Engorgio_ charm. He spent the better part of the next hour with her tits pressed firmly against his chest and his cock throbbing and begging to be touched. Even in her sleep, it seemed that no matter how he moved, she followed.

 

 His eyes were tired and heavy when he felt her hands slip beneath his shirt, her fingertips flicking over his bare chest with feather-light touches. She whispered his name, and he groaned at the feel of her warm breath on the skin of his neck. 

 

He opened his eyes, and her face was inches from his as her head rested upon his pillow. Her eyelids closed, her face tilted ever so slightly, and her mouth found his in a warm, slow and sensuous kiss. 

 

He grabbed her upper arms and pushed her back. "Hermione, go back to your bed. If we don't stop, then I'm not going to be able to, and this isn't what you want. It will change things between us. I've lost one friend. I don't want to lose you too." He pressed his lips to her forehead in an attempt to take the sting from his words and rolled away from her facing the side of the tent. 

 

He waited- waited to feel the bunk move with the shifting of her weight as she rose, but the next thing Harry felt were her hands sliding beneath his t-shirt and rubbing slow circles on his skin. One hand came to rest on his flat stomach while the other stroked his dark hair. He tilted his head and her lips connected with the skin of his neck and began to suckle at a spot just below his jaw. 

 

He rolled toward her, giving up any weak attempts at resistance. They had been building toward this since Ron left and he wanted _it_. He wanted to touch her and kiss her, and if he were honest with himself, he had felt this way for quite some time. The consequences - and no doubt there would be many - be damned. He pulled her close and tilted her chin. She was blurry without his glasses, and he wanted to remember this night with crystal clarity. He placed a light kiss on her lips, or at least her lips were what he aimed for, and reached around her for the table where he kept his glasses, almost landing them both in the floor when he grabbed for them and missed.

 

"Stop moving. There is an easier way, you know? I'll get them for you," she said in an exasperated tone, sounding much more like herself. She retrieved his wand from beneath the pillow, cast a quiet " _Accio_ " spell and his glasses floated gracefully into her hand. "Here," she said passing them over. 

 

"Well, I feel a bit – Er, I forgot about that." He was thankful for the darkness that hid the blush heating his face. But, in all fairness, he wasn't sure how any bloke was expected to think clearly when his prick was throbbing with such intensity it threatened to split his pants to free itself from the restrictive clothing.

 

"Why do you need them?" Hermione asked, indicating the glasses he held in his hand.

 

"I can't see you," he responded, as he put them on.

 

"It's dark, Harry. You can't see me any better now that you have them."

 

He took the wand from her hand and lit several of the candles close by, giving off just enough light to cast them both in a soft orange glow, then returned the wand to its place beneath his pillow. "I can now," he said. He lay on his side facing her, propping himself up on an elbow. He traced a finger down her jaw, drinking her in with his eyes, and willed away the nagging thoughts that this was a bad idea and they would regret it in the morning from his mind. He would worry about that tomorrow. 

 

She reciprocated the touch, raising her head to kiss his stubble-covered chin, and moving closer to him, so that their bodies touched and their legs entwined. Her lips traveled from his chin to the corner of his mouth, stopping to press a kiss to it that seemed tentative and nervous, as though the confidence that she found in the darkness had waned by the light of the candles.  

 

"You okay?" he asked, resting a hand on her hip.

 

She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm fine. I just didn't know you were going to light the candles, that's all. I'm a little nervous, I guess."

 

"We don't have to—"

 

She cut off his words with a kiss that was the antithesis of tentative. It was demanding, as if to convince him she knew what she was doing and had no intention of backing out. She stole his breath when she pushed him to his back and ran her tongue across his lips, slipping it between them when he opened his mouth to allow her exploration. His hand pushed its way beneath the thick braid of hair that ran down her back to curl around the warm skin of her neck. His other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, so that he could roll her beneath him in an attempt to slow things down. He was never going to last if she kept kissing him like that, and he didn't want this to be a disappointment for either of them. 

 

He raised himself to his knees, straddling her hips and pulled his maroon-coloured t-shirt over his head. He tossed it aside as he reached for the buttons of her pyjama top. He started to work the top button free, and raised an eyebrow at her for permission to continue. She nodded her assent, and he unfastened each button and pushed the top aside, baring her breasts to him. It was the first time he had seen a female's breasts in the flesh, much less touched them beneath clothes. He had gotten in a fair few gropes when he and Ginny had snogged, but they had always been atop stiff school uniforms, which paled in comparison to this.

 

"Merlin!" he gasped when his hands closed over the twin mounds of soft flesh. Hermione gasped as well, though for apparently an altogether different reason.

 

"Ow! Too bloody hard! It's not a contest to see how hard you can squeeze, Harry!"

 

"Oh, sorry," he said. He loosened his grip as his tongue snaked out to curl around one of her nipples. It hardened beneath the warm strokes of his tongue, back and forth and then around it. He took his time, savouring the way her skin tasted, as he repeated his actions on her other breast. He watched as she rolled the still slick nipple he had just abandoned between her thumb and forefinger, taking note of the amount of pressure she used before batting her hand away and taking up the ministrations himself. Her eyes closed and her back arched off the bed when he got the rhythm and pressure just right.  

 

He wished he could watch her body writhe beneath his touch and listen to the little sounds that escaped her lips all night, but his cock gave painful protest at being neglected. Harry kissed a trail down her stomach, but stopped when he reached the waistband of her pyjamas. 

 

"Are you sure you want to do this, Hermione?"

 

She nodded and raised her hips so that he could pull them down and off. His breath caught at the sight of her lying before him. He quickly rid himself of his own remaining clothes as well and crawled back up her body to pull her to him in a deep kiss. 

 

As he kissed her, she took his hand and guided it between her legs showing him just how she liked to be touched and moaning and bucking against his fingers when he did it correctly. 

 

While Harry may not have been the best student at Hogwarts, he was quite the avid pupil when given a subject he deemed worthy of studying. Had Hermione Granger's body been a subject on his O.W.L.s, he would have definitely earned an 'O' in the area of attentiveness. He noted every sigh, as well as each whimper and moan he elicited from her.  

 

All attempts at studiousness left him, however, when Hermione's fingers wrapped around his hard shaft. His mind went completely blank, lost in the pleasure of knowing that the fingers touching him were not his own; they belonged to _her_. She was touching him, and it felt even better than he had imagined was possible. 

 

"Come here," she whispered. "Are you ready?"

 

"Yes," he said, feeling her legs wrap around his waist.

 

"Go slow, okay?"

 

Harry nodded as she guided him to her entrance, and he took a deep breath to attempt to regain control over himself. She felt so warm, so silky soft when his fingers slid into her, that it took all his self-control not to push his prick into her hard and fast. He pushed inside slowly, stopping when he heard her whimper into his shoulder and her arms tightened around his neck. 

 

He remained still, though it was a torture unlike any he had felt. She released his neck at his urging, and he noted that her eyes were tightly closed and tears were gathered in the corners. One slipped down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb, as he kissed her mouth, jaw and ear. "I won't move until you say it's okay," he whispered. 

 

She slid her hand between them and rubbed herself which seemed to ease her pain. He rained kisses on her face and neck in an attempt to control his baser urges, which became more difficult with each passing second. He groaned loudly as her hips canted ever so slightly against him. 

 

She cupped his face between her hands when he joined their lips, and she began to move against him in slow, shallow strokes. 

 

"Hermione, I can't hold back much longer," he said through clenched teeth.

 

"You don't have to," she whispered, placing a kiss behind his ear and grasping his shoulders. 

 

He had thought it difficult to maintain control while remaining still, but that was nothing compared to when he was moving. He fought the desire to drive into her hard and fast, to be for her what those men were in the novels she thought she hid from him and Ron beneath the dust jacket of _Hogwarts, a History_. Unfortunately, no matter how he tried to make his time inside her last, it was not to be. He came embarrassingly quickly inside the tight warmth of her body.

 

She started to roll away from him, but he stopped her. "We're not finished," he whispered as he spread her legs and buried his face between them. 

 

He said a silent thank you that he and Ron had found those _PlayWizard_ magazines beneath Charlie's bed the summer they were fourteen. They had taught him several useful skills before Mrs. Weasley caught he and Ron looking at them, whapped them both on the heads and took them away, screaming at Charlie on the way down the stairs that if he knew what was good for him, he'd not be in the kitchen when she got there. That had earned Ron another, much harder thump on the head from his older brother. 

 

They had carefully studied the article _How to tease a witch to ecstasy using nothing but your tongue. PlayWizard, October 1993._ He and Ron had _barely_ looked at the blonde witch on the cover wearing nothing but Quidditch Gloves- _much_.

 

"Pass me your wand," Harry said, and she did so without speaking. He cast a quick healing spell, as well as a spell to dull the pain she must be feeling. _Things a wizard should know about first time sex. PlayWizard, September 1992._ When he finished the spell, he looked up at her and asked, "Better?"

 

"Much," she said, as she sat up.

 

"I meant what I said. I'm not finished. Lie back down." He removed his glasses and passed them to her, then spread the lips of her sex gently open. _A wizard's hands should always be gentle_ \- he couldn't remember the issue, but he certainly remembered what the witch on the cover looked like- or at least what parts of her did. 

 

The first touch of his tongue made her arch off the bed and swear. When this bloody war was over, he decided, he would become _PlayWizard_ 's largest contributor. That magazine provided a _valuable_ service to young wizards, even if some mothers were too blind to recognise it for what it was. Sex education was important after all, and if he and Ron had many a good wank before the magazines were confiscated…

 

Hermione looked down to see why he had stopped, and Harry said a silent thank you that she did not know Occlumency. He had avoided it up until now, but Harry closed his lips over her clitoris and began to suck. A litany of curse words that he hadn't even thought Hermione knew escaped her lips, as she clamped her thighs around his face.

 

"So good, Harry. Oh, yes!"  

 

He was pleased with himself when she came, glad that he had been able to make her orgasm. He crawled back up her body, settled beside her, and wrapped his arm around her waist.   

 

Her breathing was still laboured when she next spoke, "Where did you learn to do that?"

 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said, as she snuggled close to him.

 

"I don't really care where you learned it. I'm just incredibly glad you did." 

 

_PlayWizard_ magazine, Harry thought, provided a valuable service to wizards indeed!

  ♥ ♥ ♥Fin♥ ♥ ♥


End file.
